Chapter Text
Vera was eight years old when her life changed.
The house was unsettlingly quiet. She turned on some music – a song from some American Broadway that her father had always loved – to chase away the silence as she fixed a bowl of cereal. With food made, she then climbed on the cough and flipped through channels in search of cartoons. However, the sight of a sparkling outfit suddenly caused her to pause.
“Here’s Russia’s next generation, Yuri Plisetsky. He is skating ‘On Love: Agape’,” The tv announced.
Then the skater glided and twirled and soared like he was born to fly across the ice. Vera’s heart pounded, and her eyes were glued to the screen. The commentators seemed excited but all she could truly hear was the music. A longing bloomed in her chest.
Vera wanted that. She wanted to do that.
When the routine ended, Vera set her untouched cereal on the coffee table and then skittered down the hall. She wasn’t allowed to use her mother’s laptop but it’s not like her mother was there to stop her.
Vera watched the rest of the skaters while she googled and prayed that there was an ice rink nearby.
A Few Years Later
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
The condolences were repeated again and again. Yuri was sick and tired of hearing them. He’d cussed out Viktor and Katsudon when they’d called to check on him and said that dreaded sentence. Yuri was very tempted to repeat that – the offensive words on the tip of his tongue – but he swallowed back the bitterness when Lilia put a hand on his shoulder.
Funerals were awful.
It’s a small funeral; just the family, grandpa’s friends and neighbors, Yakov, and Lilia. As soon as they began tossing dirt into the grave, Yuri turned and stormed away. He ignored the burning in his eyes and how his vision was starting to blur.
“Yuri,” Yakov said as they caught up to him, “Take a few more days off.”
He whipped his head to glare at his coach in disbelief. “What?!”
“If you get on the ice now, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Yuri huffed. He wanted to skate. He wanted to pour all his grief and anger into the ice until he couldn’t feel anymore.
Yakov stared at him knowingly. “I’m not letting you on the ice with that mindset.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fly up?” That was the first thing Otabek asked when they skyped later that night, after the train ride back to St. Petersburg.
Yuri’s frown deepened. “…Focus on training. We’ll see each other soon enough.”
Otabek nodded but worry still creased his face. If anyone else was giving him an expression like that, Yuri would be tempted to throw something at them. Since it was Otabek and since Yuri couldn’t throw anything all the way to Almaty, he let it go.
Yuri switched topics after that and was silently grateful that Otabek went along with it. Talking late into the night about movies and the plan to visit the Beijing Zoo during the Cup of China helped him forget, if only for a few hours.
Yuri woke up the next morning before dawn. Pure habit had him nudging his cat over so he can climb out of bed. It wasn’t until he was brushing his teeth that he remembered Yakov had barred him from skating for the next few days.
Yuri muttered a string of curses at that.
He got ready anyway to go on a jog around the city. The way everyone was going about their morning business – ignorant that there was now a gaping hole in his life – only pissed Yuri off. He glowered at anyone who had the misfortune of glancing at him.
By the time lunch rolled around, Yuri found the idea of staying in the city sickening. He ate a sandwich mechanically – without tasting it – and then grabbed his keys.
On his first trip to Almaty, during the off season after his senior debut, he had convinced Otabek to teach him how to drive a motorcycle. He’d eventually bought his own as well.
Yuri hopped onto his bike and revved it. Then he drove away from St. Petersburg. If Yakov wouldn’t let him pour his grief onto the ice, then dammit he was going to pour it into driving far far away.
It’s only when he needed to fill up the gas tank that Yuri stopped. He pulled into some rundown gas station in a small town of somewhere hours west of St. Petersburg. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, coloring the sky in red and purple. It’s picturesque enough that Yuri briefly considered taking a photo.
He didn’t.
Yuri was about to get back on his motorbike when he noticed the sign for an ice rink just down the road. He was slightly surprised a town like this even had an ice rink. While he had no intention to skate, like a magnetic pull, he couldn’t help but drive over to it.
Looking at it from the outside, it wasn’t very impressive. He parked his bike and went up to the entrance, skimming over the times on the door. Apparently the rink would close in about fifteen minutes. Yuri walked in anyway.
The inside wasn’t very impressive either. Not only was the building old but all the equipment was obviously out of date. Small town, Yuri reminded himself. The manager gave him an odd look from his place behind the counter. Yuri ducked his head, hiding his face beneath his coat hood.
“We’re closing soon.”
“I won’t stick around long”, he replied before marching straight toward the rink.
There was only one person on the ice. The skater was a young girl with earbuds in her ears and sweaty from exertion. She rose a slender arm to the sky as if reaching for something grander.
Yuri stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that pose. He recognized the choreography that she slid into. It was his senior debut short program, On Love: Agape. She shifted her momentum in time with the musical cues that Yuri couldn’t hear but still knew by heart and muscle memory even years later. The girl glided across the ice as light as a feather and yet there was a heavy weight to her movements. It was as if her skating was a prayer laid bare on the ice.
(In the back of his mind, Yuri thought of the way Katsudon drew people in so that they couldn’t look away.)
Yuri frowned. Despite that, the girl’s technical skills were riddled with mistakes. She barely managed the first jump, a single axel in place of his triple.
The manager walked up beside him. “She’s pretty good. I always hate running her off.”
“She’s terrible,” Yuri snapped as she fumbled the combination. However, the girl quickly pushed herself up and continued. “Who the hell is coaching her?”
“No one. She’s self-taught.”
Something twitched inside Yuri. She was butchering a scaled down version of his program but for her to be good enough to even attempt it without coaching…
Yuri’s frown deepened as he watched her struggle through the program, absentmindedly noting all her faults. Finally she entered the ending pose, clasped hands raised to the heavens.
The manager glanced at his watch and then yelled, “Vera! It’s about closing time!”
The girl dropped her arms and turned to look at them with a pout. She then glided over and yanked her earbuds from her ears. She eyed Yuri warily as she slumped onto the nearest bench and began unlacing her rental skates.
“Brat,” Yuri said, “What’s this I hear about you not having a coach?”
She glanced back up at him and stared intently. Yuri wasn’t surprised when her hazel eyes went wide in recognition a split second later. She yelped and leaped into the air like a startled cat.
Yuri looked down at her and managed to hold back a laugh. The girl pinched her cheek.
“Ouch. Okay, not dreaming.” She then looked over to the manager. “Why is Yuri Plisetsky here?”
The manager’s jaw dropped as he spun to Yuri. “Yuri Plisetsky?!”
“I was passing through and happened to stop here,” Yuri answered with a shrug, “I saw you skating.”
The girl’s face went bright red, and she suddenly found the floor very interesting.
Yuri then listed off every single mistake she made: the barely savaged landing of her single axel and the other jumps she’d messed up, her bad posture during the basic spin she did, and the missteps during the step sequence.
She stared back up at him wide-eyed. Water pooled in the corner of her eyes.
Yuri paused mid-sentence. Shit, Lilia would murder him if she heard he’d made a little kid that was clearly a fan of his cry!
The girl rubbed her face and scrambled up to dart away. Yuri was about to call out to try to salvage the situation; offer a selfie or autograph or both. However, the girl didn’t go far. She stopped in front a beaten and battered school bag to pull out a notebook and pen.
Then she came back.
“Um, can you repeat that please? I want to take notes…” She asked, looking at him in a way that reminded Yuri of how his cat would just stare when she wanted something.
“I will, but first I want to know why you don’t have a coach?”
A look of sad resignation passed across her face. “…Can’t afford one.”
Yuri remembered what it was like to be unable to afford things he wanted. He’d originally only gotten lessons because an old friend of his mother’s had agreed to coach him at a discount. Up until he won his first competition at least.
Eventually he’d been able to support his family and career through prize money and sponsorships but if he didn’t have that initial connection… He probably wouldn’t be where he was now.
“Can you come back here tomorrow?” Yuri asked.
She frowned, thinking for a moment, before nodding.
“Good. If it’s okay with your parents, I’m going to give you a private lesson.”
For the briefest of seconds a dark cloud covered her eyes, but then she lit up like a Christmas tree.
Yuri found a cheap motel nearby. The second he shut the door to the room, he pulled out his phone to call Yakov. His coach answered on the second ring.
“Yuri?”
“I need you to come to-” He paused and had to look up the name of the town before relaying it.
Yakov let out a long, tired sign. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid?”
“What? Do you think I’m in jail?”
“…..”
“I’m not!” He shouted before taking a deep breath. “Look, I found this kid with potential but no coach. I want you to come watch her skating and see what you think.”
After getting back to the house, Vera had jumped and danced around until she’d finally burned enough excited energy to fall asleep on the couch.
When she woke up the next morning to the beeping of her alarm, the lights were still on. The house was silent and empty. Vera frowned. Her mother hadn’t come home again.
Vera pushed herself off the couch to get breakfast and then get ready for the day. The promised skating lesson later on put a hurried edge into her step. It was still hard to believe that the afternoon before had been real! THE Yuri Plisetsky had offered to spend a few hours teaching her!
…There had to be a catch, right? World famous figure skaters just didn’t teach random kids for an afternoon, right?
Vera decided that she didn’t care. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. But first she had to get through the school day.
Yuri was waiting at the ice rink when the girl, Vera, bounded inside. She stopped short about a meter in front of him, bouncing on her heels and staring at him.
Fuck. What had he been thinking? Yuri wasn’t a coach; he had no idea how to teach figure skating. He could give tips to other advanced skaters but this was different…
She continued to stare with those big kitty-cat eyes, waiting for him to say something.
Screw it, Yuri thought with a huff, it was just for an afternoon.
“Go get your skates on,” he said.
She nodded and hurried to comply. Soon enough Vera was on the ice, while Yuri hung back and gave her instructions. Not to keep Yakov’s order to stay off the ice but because he didn’t have his skates and really didn’t want to use old, smelly rentals.
“Remember what I said about your posture. Fix it.”
“Hold your arms closer. There, like that.”
“Lift your leg higher before going into the jump.”
Vera listened to him like she was lost in a burning desert and he was offering water. Now that she had explanations for what she was doing wrong, it was obvious how much focus she was putting in to fix the problems. Sweat beaded for forehead; and, her muscles were straining from the effort.
“Take a breather,” Yuri said after a few more minutes.
Vera turned to him with an expression that was oddly familiar. “I’m not tired yet. I can keep going.”
Yuri picked up a water bottle and held it over the rink wall toward her.
“You need to stay hydrated.”
She pouted but skated over and took the bottle from him.
“Have you ever thought about competing?”
Vera nearly dropped the water bottle at the question. She then took a long drink before forcefully setting it on the side of the rink.
“I can’t afford it.”
Yuri frowned. “But if you could, is that something you would want?”
Vera glanced down at her feet as her ears turned red. Her voice was a whisper, “I just…want to skate like you do…”
Yuri knew he had become an inspiration and aspiration for kids the world over, but how the hell was he supposed to reply to that?
He was saved from coming up with an answer when the door was pushed open, signaling Yakov’s arrival. He gave Yuri a stern glare before turning his attention Vera. She looked at him hesitantly, almost like she hadn’t decided if he was a threat or not.
“This is my coach, Yakov.”
“…I know.”
“And this is Vera Kotova.”
Yakov glanced between them and then raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see it then.”
“Ready to run through the whole thing?” Yuri asked.
Vera nodded and then glided toward the center of the rink. Yuri moved over to where his phone was plugged into a speaker and hit play. The moment the music began to drift across the rink, Yakov recognized it.
“This is-!”
“Watch.”
Yuri had been a little worried that skating in front of him and his coach would make Vera too nervous to do well. However, once she began to skate, it was as if her world had fallen away to nothing but the ice and the song.
A few hours’ worth of guidance would never be enough to iron out the bad habits she’d unintentionally formed. That would take months of hard work under the tutelage of a good coach. However, it was enough for her to smoothly land the first jump. Her one foot spin was just a little tighter too.
Next up was the combination. Her momentum as she leapt into the salchow had a note of elegance. However, she slipped the landing of toe-loop. Her hand touched the ice but she didn’t let it faze her and continued without missing a beat. Her next jump, another toe-loop, was flawless and led seamlessly into the step sequence. While it was a simplified version, her feet moved with the grace of someone who poured their entire being into each motion.
“You said that she’s self-taught?” Yakov asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Unless you count the tips I’ve given her the past hour or so.”
“Hmm.”
Vera shifted into the last spin. It was a little sloppy; the exhaustion catching up to her. Then finally she reached for the sky as if pleading to the heavens.
There was a moment of silence before Vera let her arms drop and turned to them, red faced and panting for breath. This time Yuri held back his critique (for now) and settled for an approving nod. She beamed as she skated back over to them.
“Are you sure you never took lessons?” Yakov commented.
Vera shook her head. “This rink used to have a coach but I could never afford lessons and then he moved…”
“Are you’re parents here? We might be able to work something out.”
“Really?!” Her excitement then faded into a grimace. “I can call my mom.”
Not bothering to remove her skates, Vera thumped over to her bag and pulled out a cell phone from the side pocket. She fidgeted as the other line rang. Eventually she signed as she looked back at them.
“Sorry, it went to voicemail.” She then turned away from them to speak into the phone. “Um, mom, could you come down to the ice rink before it closes? There’s, ah, a coach here that wants to talk to you. Please?”
Vera hung up and turned back around with a smiled that seemed forced. “She’s probably covering an extra shift for someone at her work.”
“Alright, we might as well go over your mistakes while we wait,” Yakov announced, “Yuri, get on the ice but no quads.”
“I don’t have my skates,” he flatly replied.
“They’re in my car.”
So while they waited, Yuri went through his practice. Part the way through Vera called out asking for him to do a triple toe-loop. On a whim, Yuri did the jump. Vera then called out another and another.
Until finally she asked, “Can I try a double?”
Yakov sighed the sigh of a coach whose students rarely listened to him. “All athletes need to understand their limits and know when to stop before they hurt themselves.”
“Why are you looking at me”, Yuri demanded.
Yakov spoke again to Vera, “You need to build on your basics more first.”
She huffed but reluctantly nodded.
It was almost closing time before the manager brought in Vera’s mother. She had a too large coat over a waitress uniform; and, the same shade of not quite blond but not quite brunette hair as her daughter. She glanced around the rink with a deepening frown before walking toward them.
“Vera! Why did you call me at work over this?” She sounded annoyed. Like her daughter’s hopes and dreams were something trivial that should be cast aside.
Yuri hadn’t been oblivious to all the sad and dark expressions that had passed over Vera’s face whenever her parents were mentioned. Even now she wore a mask of blank resignation, as if she’d been fully expecting her mother’s reaction.
Did the kid have anyone who cared enough to support her? Something inside Yuri snapped at that thought. He growled and stomped his foot down.
“Your daughter has the talent and drive to become a world class figure skater! Like hell will I let some old hag let that type of potential go to waste in some stupid backwater town!”
“Yuri!”
Yuri whipped his head around to glare at his coach.
“Let me talk to Mrs. Kotova, privately,” Yakov ordered.
As his coach led the rather stunned woman off, Yuri felt a tug on his coat. He glanced down to meet Vera’s hopeful eyes.
“Did you really mean that?”
Yuri smirked. “I don’t spend time giving advice to just anyone.”
“When I told you to take a few days off,” Yakov said later, after most the details had been figured out, “I never imagined you’d find a stray to adopt.”
“Shut up.”
Vera was eleven years old when her life changed again.